


This ... Is Jeopardy!

by Vana



Series: Gathering Seashells on the Event Horizon: A Stavos Collection [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Jeopardy! AU, M/M, Nothing but crack, just go with it, yes the game show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-26 12:37:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2652326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vana/pseuds/Vana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stannis and Davos take on Walda Frey Bolton on Westeros' favorite quiz show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Davos I

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by two weeks of watching the Jeopardy [Tournament of Champions](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jeopardy!_Tournament_of_Champions), which ends tonight, November 21. I've been an avid watcher of this show since I was a little kid, because I am a nerd. There's a tumblr called [Jeopardy Hotties](http://jeopardyhotties.tumblr.com) that I follow and someone recently submitted the question: "Do you think the contestants ever have a three-way after the show?" The answer was probably not, but two contestants hooking up may happen fairly often. Because I can't read a thing like that without my mind going to Stavos, and because it was high time I wrote some straight-up crack, this occurred. 
> 
> If you are unfamiliar with the show or the concept, [the Wikipedia article](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jeopardy!) is very helpful! But basically, it's a thirty-minute quiz show in which contestants answer answers instead of questions. 
> 
> For example, the clue will be: "The sexiest pirate in Westeros." And the contestant will have to respond, "Who is Salladhor Saan?" Daily Doubles are scattered throughout the game -- one in the first round and two in the Double Jeopardy! round -- in which the contestant can wager any amount they have on their ability to give the correct question.

“Our first challenger is Davos Seaworth, a cod fisherman from King’s Landing!”

Davos put on what he hoped was an engaging smile for the camera, grinning out at the world while internally cursing the day he had ever met Salladhor Saan. As the seconds stretched awkwardly on, he went on to curse the night that he and Saan had gone out drinking of a rainy winter evening and seen Jeopardy! on television in the pub, the subsequent ale-soaked bet that Davos couldn’t pass the initial test to get on the game show ... Then the camera and the announcer shifted their attention to the man to his right. 

“Our second challenger,” boomed the announcer, “is Stannis Baratheon, a financial systems administrator from Storm’s End!” As tradition dictated, Davos turned to the contestant, smile still in place, and applauded. The players had all met briefly before the shoot, but while Davos and the previous day’s champion had chatted — in reality, he had listened to her talk for a good 20 minutes — but Stannis Baratheon hadn’t said a word, alternately burying his nose in a Moleskin notebook or staring fixedly at the wall. Now he was able to get a good look at the man, who gazed straight ahead while the studio audience applauded dutifully. The expression on his face was closer kin to a scowl than a smile and Davos felt the tension radiating off him; for all that, Davos could see he was handsome, his face strong and fine and his features aquiline. But it was his eyes that Davos caught a flash of when they both faced the champion as her name was called. They were a blue that was both bright and distant. Davos wanted to get a better look, but he had a game to play — he found himself cursing Sal again, albeit with slightly less vehemence. He gave himself a little shake.

“The two gentlemen will be taking on our champion, Walda Frey Bolton, a housewife who hails from The Twins. Walda’s one-day total equals ... nine _hundred_ and six dollars!”

 _Nine hundred dollars?_ Davos barely had time to wonder how the plump, dimpled, beaming Mrs. Bolton came out the champion with that ludicrous sum before the game’s real star was walking out — the host, mustachioed and tanned and grey-besuited.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, your host ... Alyx Tarbeck!”

“Thank you. The categories today will be ...”

Davos watched as the board opened up: Astronomy. House Words and Sigils. Zoology. World Religions. Westerosi Music. Books By Maesters.

Well, he knew about half of those categories. Soon this would be over, and then he could go home to his quiet apartment, have a long nap and a pint at his local pub, and be shed of all Sal’s dares for the rest of his natural life.

“Walda, as our champion, you choose first.”

“ _Thank_ you, Alyx! I’ll take Westerosi Music for $200.”

_This musician was accused of murdering Lady Lysa Arryn by throwing her out of her own castle in 300 AC._

“Who is Marillion?”

“Correct, Walda, go again.”

“Music for $400, Alyx!”

_This sad ballad tells of a girl who disguised herself as a boy to join the Night_ _’s Watch._

Davos buzzed in, almost shocked that he was first on such an easy question. “What is Brave Danny Flint?”

“Yes, please choose.”

“I’ll take House Words and Sigils for $200.”

_Growing Strong._

“What is House Tyrell,” Davos answered. He found a good rhythm with the buzzer and ran the House Sigils category, ending with a question about the sleeping lion of House Grandinson. But then Stannis caught him in the category of Books by Maesters when Davos guessed Kaeth as the writer of “The Princess and the Queen” instead of Gyldayn.

Walda ended up finding the Daily Double in the $800 clue of World Religions. “Oh goodness!” she exclaimed, dimples deep in a pink worried face. “I’ll bet ... oh ... oh ... um ... two thousand.”

“That will put you in the lead, $1,200 ahead of Davos, if you answer this question correctly: This god is worshiped in Yi Ti and is said to bestow money on its supplicants.”

“What is the Lion of Night?” Walda responded immediately. Davos could only shake his head in admiration; with so many Eastern gods there was no way he could keep track of them all. _I barely even know the Seven any more,_ he thought.

At the first commercial break, Champ Walda held the lead with $5,400, Davos trailed her with $4,200, and Stannis was sitting at $3,000, the result of his Books by Maesters mastery. It was still anyone’s game.


	2. Stannis I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first half of the first round is over. What awaits our contestants? Hint: Way more time for introspection than they have on the real show.

“How come you said you’re a cod fisher?” Stannis hissed at his neighbor during the break. It had been bothering him since the introductions. “There isn’t any more cod. It’s fake now! You very likely fish something else and just market it as cod!” 

Davos looked at him with his alarmingly expressive eyebrows lifted almost to the bright lights of the studio. The brown eyes below grew darker with anger or amusement or both. Stannis expected a flash of anger or perhaps just a brush-off, but instead Davos regarded him intently for a beat. A sort of dizziness overcame Stannis; it seemed that the whole studio had been swallowed up in that gaze. Then the moment passed, and the mood lightened once more.

“Read your Mark Kurlansky, eh? That’s good, that,” Davos said, with the corners of his mouth quirking up. That little hint of a smile sent Stannis’ heart into his throat and he coughed, awkwardly, trying to cover up the startling reaction.

He had to somehow figure out a way to calm these ridiculous nerves and manage not to embarrass himself and his family — not that they would care, he thought with more than a tinge of bitterness. None of them had managed to make it to the studio to watch this taping. Stannis wondered how many people were here to see Davos, who seemed to get a disproportionate amount of applause when he answered a question or, indeed, did anything at all … “Ten,” called the producer, counting down the seconds until they were back on the air. Stannis straightened his back and shot a final glare toward Davos before sending — or trying to send — his focus entirely to the board. He hadn’t studied for years, watched the tryout schedule like a hawk, read every book by every game show champion he could find, and set himself flash card pop quizzes so that he could be distracted by a fisherman in a sweater.

The beginning of the segment included the personal questions. Stannis’ stomach clenched in miserable anticipation.

“Davos Seaworth, of King’s Landing,” Alyx was saying, looking down at the sheet of paper in his hand. “It says here you volunteer with environmental groups in the Crownlands.”

“Yes,” said Davos, “I’ve done some work with the Narrow Sea Water Charter and with Westeros First.”

“And you do what kind of volunteer work ...?”

“Something very important. I test all the pubs where the groups propose to have their meetings,” Davos deadpanned. The audience burst into laughter and Stannis felt a hot pang of envy. Davos was saying something about helping with marine research and then it was Stannis’ turn. _Just don_ _’t say anything ludicrous_.

“Stannis Baratheon, you’re right near your home here — you come from Storm’s End. It says here you renovated your house ... extensively?”

“Beginning when I was nineteen,” Stannis said, “I held the estate against the Redwyne developers. I improved it over the years with my own sweat and blood. The property is mine by rights and it will not fall to the depredations of political maneuvering.” The crowd was silent, and Tarbeck looked at him blankly, with a bland smile. Davos let out a short, quiet chuckle from the next seat over and that broke the tension of the moment. Was it better that the whole world was ignoring him or that this man was laughing at him? Or was it _with_ him?

Alyx Tarbeck rallied. “That's admirable. I’ve never done work on a house, myself,” he said, falling back on a personal anecdote the way Stannis had watched him do so many times when the guest was too uninteresting. “But I’ve always wanted to. It’s just ... so much  _work_. ... And now to our champion, Walda Frey Bolton!”

Stannis felt himself growing warm again. That went about as poorly as he could possibly have expected. But he wasn’t here to be a personality.

“You come from a large family,” Tarbeck was saying to the woman. “You have two sisters and a brother, but _how_ many cousins?”

“At least seventy-five,” Walda said proudly. “And I love every last precious one of them!”

Even Tarbeck was stunned into silence then, for a moment. Davos let out a low whistle. And Stannis felt as though at least he had not had the worst answer of the three. _Thank you, House Frey,_ he said silently.

“Walda, it is your turn,” Alyx said finally.

“Zoology for $1,000,” Walda announced, and then she did not know the answer, but Stannis did. He played the rest of the category in reverse, up to the $200 question, and then began on Astronomy. The hard sciences were good. There were concrete answers there and no room for questions of interpretation. Stannis easily went on a run of 10 answers in a row, eliciting a surprising burst of applause from the audience and his fellow contestants when, flushed and triumphant, he completed the Astronomy category seemingly without effort. Walda clapped politely to his right and Davos effusively to his left, but when he looked at Davos, the man winked at him and Stannis’ hand grew sweaty on the buzzer.

“I’ll take — I’ll take... World Religions for $1,000,” Stannis said, confused. He was ahead of both Walda and Davos and his only thought was to get the high-money questions so he could stay in the lead coming into Double Jeopardy.

“He is the eternal enemy of the Drowned God according to Ironborn religion,” intoned Alyx.

Stannis buzzed in first again. “What is the Storm God?” He was pulling ahead. Walda would win a few more squares in the Music category and Davos would answer one correctly and one wrong in Books by Maesters, but by the break before Double Jeopardy, Stannis was well in the lead. Walda looked unperturbed, beaming out at someone in the audience and waving prettily with a hand tipped with bright pink fingernails. Davos had on that crinkly grin again until the director said “And cut.” Then Davos’ face relaxed into neutrality and that was somehow even more comforting to Stannis than the genial smile.

“Break for four,” said the director. Four minutes: just enough time to run to the restroom or to take a drink of water. The handlers shuffled them offstage and Davos and Stannis ended up in the waiting area while Walda hurried into the bathroom.

“Gods, it’s hot under those lights,” Davos said, stretching and shrugging his cream-colored sweater off. He wore a navy blue t-shirt that clung tightly to his surprisingly muscular arms and broad chest. Stannis’ stomach and throat tightened, his eyes widening involuntarily, and he blinked hard. He struggled to get a breath through his mouth, but he felt frozen in the small room, nothing in focus but Davos. How could this be happening now?

“On in twenty,” warned the director. Davos looked back at Stannis — and on the instant it was evident he knew he’d been stared at, and his eyes grew brighter, almost twinkling at Stannis under the flat white lights backstage. Stannis felt his breath catch again. “Can’t wait ‘til this bloody thing is over,” Davos was saying, pulling his sweater back on. “I’m in awful need of a drink.”

Stannis — although he was winning — could not agree more.


	3. Walda I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double Jeopardy time! Walda notices — and knows — more than Stannis and Davos might think.

The Double Jeopardy categories should be easy enough to handle if she could keep the two challengers off their buzzers — and if she could keep her royalty straight. Roose had drilled the kings and queens of all Westeros into her head, but there was already so much information there ... things even he hadn't taught her. Things she had just picked up from living in The Twins and under the thumb of her grandfather. Medicine, for one, which fortuitously happened to be the fourth category. How many babies had she seen be born and die in that drafty old place? How many women?

“There’s only so much I can memorize, honey,” she had pleaded with Roose. “Can we please go to bed?” Her husband might scowl, but he could never turn _that_ invitation down. Walda smiled in spite of herself.

But of course, Targaryen Monarchs and Ancient Castles were two of the categories. “All I can do is my best,” she reminded herself. And if her two challengers continued flirting with each other instead of paying attention to the board, she might have it easier than she had hoped.

The handsome, severe man, Stannis, began the play. 

“Transportation, for $400,” he said. His voice was nice, Walda noticed absently. It was a flinty, deep voice — something like Roose’s. It wouldn’t be difficult to watch _him_ on the next episode if he happened to win.

_This ancient highway connects Highgarden with the capitol._

The bearded man, Davos, buzzed in. “The Roseroad,” he said. It took all Walda had not to whisper “ _What is!_ _”_

Alyx Tarbeck waited.

“WhatistheRoseroad,” Davos said all at the last second. “Whew,” he added under his breath. The audience cheered appreciatively. He certainly had a way with the crowd. Just the opposite from the — what was he? Accountant? — between them.

“Targaryen Monarchs for $1,600,” said Davos.

_The seventh of the Targaryen line, this king came to power as a boy and sparked what is known as the Regent Wars._

This time, Stannis buzzed in. “Who is Aegon?”

“Be more specific?” Tarbeck prompted.

“Who is Aegon the ... fourth?”

“No, I’m sorry.” Stannis’ face was impassive but Walda could see a tic forming at his jaw. Davos was holding off, so she buzzed in.

“Walda?”

“Who is Aegon III?" 

“Correct, and you make the selection.”

“Essosi Geology for $400, please.” To Walda’s dismay, in this category she was outclassed by both Stannis and Davos, who traded correct answers like sword blows in a duel. The same continued in most of the rest of Transportation and in Castles. When Walda finally got one correct answer, she went directly to Medicine and correctly answered every question, one after the next, the clues falling like dominoes.

“I’ll finish the category for $2,000, Alyx.”

There was the first Daily Double. Walda had — seven heavens! — nineteen thousand dollars. Stannis and Davos trailed her by five thousand or so. She never did enjoy math. If she were to make it a true Daily Double and answered correctly, she would be out of reach of the men, but if she missed her guess she wouldn’t be able to catch up before the round was over. But it was medicine. “Ten thousand,” she decided.

“All right, for ten thousand dollars. It’s believed that mosquitos carry this disease, which originated in the Neck.”

 _I should have bet it all,_ Walda thought. Roose had once told her of a boy who was said to have recovered from this and woken up with the second sight.

“What is greywater fever,” she answered promptly, to a burst of applause. She squinted into the lights, looking for her husband to see if he remembered this long-ago conversation, but couldn’t spot him. Now she had a commanding lead, but Stannis and Davos still fought tooth and claw, with Stannis gripping the buzzer like a lifeline and Davos flashing his half-grin whenever either of them got an answer right.

Then came the second Daily Double, which was in the Potent Potables category. Roose didn’t drink and Walda hadn’t been of age when she married so she had barely ever touched alcohol, with the exception of the night her cousins and sister threw her a bridal shower. She remembered throwing back eight or ten “blowjob shots” and waking up the next morning not knowing whether she was Fair Walda or Fat Walda.

Davos was in third place; Stannis led him by several thousand dollars. “Let’s make it a true Daily Double, Alyx,” he said. Walda could hear Stannis’sudden sharp intake of breath. Had he really been expecting the swashbuckling fisherman to play it safe? She smiled to herself. Either Davos would catch his businessman or he would fall so far behind that he would become irrelevant. Either way would be fine with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A blowjob shot is layered Kahlua and Bailey's. You're supposed to pick the shot glass up with your mouth and then drink it down, and sometimes it gets messy, hence the name. Its main purpose seems to be to give drunk college girls a thrill to order a blowjob from some tattooed, exhausted bartender who's heard it all thousands of times before.


	4. Davos II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Jeopardy looms, but first Davos makes a gutsy move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two very short chapters follow. Stay tuned for the finale ... and the fallout!

“For all your money then, Davos, the answer: A liquor distilled here is close in taste to the Arbor gold wine vintage, but has a much higher alcohol content.”

“What is ...” _Balls_. Was it Lys or Volantis? It had to be Southern if it tasted like Arbor gold. And it had to be a Free City if it was heavy on the alcohol content. He racked his brain for several seconds: then an image of a strange traveler in his local pub appeared in his head. A dwarf — a little person — who’d just arrived on a rather dicey vessel, saying he’d sailed all the way from Selhorys, down through the Rhoyne Valley. “The Volantene liquor is 90 proof,” he remembered the little man saying.

“What is Volantis?” 

The roar of applause that greeted him almost made him jump, but it was Stannis he stole a look at. The man’s face was a dull pink, nearly blank, but there was a flash of a glance between them that was something like electric. Davos felt a little faint, but he couldn’t say whether it was because of his last-second Daily Double panic or because of that look he had just shared with his competition.

By the time he had answered nearly all of the questions about alcohol — _hey_ ,  _my education didn't_ _go to waste after all_ _—_ he had nearly caught up to Walda and had left Stannis slightly behind. Somewhere in the back of Davos’mind he wondered whether Stannis was free after the game — and then Stannis was buzzing in on the $2,000 Potent Potables clue.

“What is Andalish sour?”

“Correct!” Tarbeck boomed out. Davos hadn’t even heard the question — or rather the answer. The game was over except for Final Jeopardy and any of the three of them could emerge victorious, as unlikely as that had seemed a few minutes ago. The pink-clad Mrs. Bolton had $29,000. Stannis Baratheon, damn his gorgeous face, had $17,600. And Davos trailed him at $17,200. Thanks to the dwarf in the pub, he was in a close race — but his mind was on anything but trivia.


	5. Stannis II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis, though distracted and frustrated with the way the game is going, remains confident in his Final Jeopardy strategy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapterlet. Tomorrow we'll see the finale of the game — but is the story over?

Second place. Of course. How Robert and Renly would mock him, not to mention Cersei and Loras. This was nowhere near acceptable, but then he supposed Walda must be competent to have beaten two challengers the day before. And at least he wasn’t in last. This thought, however, was accompanied by a surprising pang of regret, of self-recrimination. He did not want Davos Seaworth to lose. He wanted _Walda_ to lose, but what of Davos? He wanted he and Davos to tie, to win together, to hold joined hands above their heads in the victorious pose of track stars at the Olympics ... What was going on with his mind tonight? Why did he want so badly to _touch_ his competitor, to lay hands on him anywhere at all — even to brush an arm against his sweater would be enough. Stannis clenched his teeth together tightly, willing these thoughts away. _Later_ , he told himself, although he knew that meant nothing. He would never summon the words to say what he wanted to say to Davos. _Later_ may as well be never.

“We have a very close game tonight,” Tarbeck said. “The Final Jeopardy category is ... Murder and Mayhem.”

He could hear Davos’ soft laugh next to him. The sound affected him so much that he bit the inside of his cheek in frustration and he forced his attention elsewhere. 

Walda had already written out her bet and was smiling beatifically out at the audience. Stannis figured at least he could count on one easy out. What could a woman like that know about murder and mayhem? He wrote down his wager — $10,001. Sometimes the extra dollar could make all the difference; he had learned that from all his years of watching this show and from his small library of strategy books. He saw Davos scribbling hard, his brow furrowed.

“Break for four.”

The three stepped down from their podia. Davos and Stannis pointedly did not look at each other, but Walda’s cheerful chattering elided that and Stannis was thankful for the distraction. She effused to the assistants about the catering, to the caterers about the bottled water quality, and to Tarbeck’s makeup girl about the host’s beautiful skin.

Davos paced. Stannis stared at the wall.

“On in twenty.”


	6. Walda II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game comes to an end (but the story doesn't).

There was no question what she would bet this time. When the clue was revealed, Walda took no more than three-point-five seconds to write an answer, then set down the stylus and gazed out at the blindingly lit audience. Her two opponents were still bent over their screens. _The dears,_ she thought.

On an inspiration, she picked up the pen again. “Hi Roose!!” she wrote at the bottom of her screen, in her pristine loopy cursive and with a heart dotting the "i." He would love that. She smiled happily thinking of how he would pick her up — she loved how strong he was! — and spin her around proudly. It was not that he had done that before. But she could easily imagine how he would do it after this show, for the first time.

The show's familiar, iconic theme song played from the speakers. At least she wouldn’t end up with only nine hundred dollars this time. She thought of what she would make for dinner that evening. “Oh my,” she found herself thinking, “we can go out to a fancy restaurant!”

Then she thought maybe it would be better to spend some of the windfall on her husband’s clothes. They were terribly stained from his job — she didn’t know why a dentist needed quite so much bleach, but that was his business. His shoes, too. With the prize money, she could completely redo Roose’s closet.

Stannis was done writing, and was grinding his teeth. Walda made a mental note to refer him to a colleague of Roose’s for some orthodontia. Davos was still scribbling. 

The music wound down and ended. Walda waited patiently. 

“It was a very high-scoring game today,” Alyx said. “All three contestants have the chance to come away with a lot of money — depending on their bets in this category. The answer is: _A string of grisly murders at this ancient estate ten years ago has remained unsolved, but is suspected of being the work of either a young girl or an Eastern assassin_.

“Davos Seaworth, you were in third place. Your answer?”

The screen revealed a hasty scrawl that read: “What is Dragonstone?” 

“No, I’m sorry,” Alyx said, “that is incorrect. And your bet was ... $10,000. So your total is now $7,200. We move on to Stannis Baratheon, who was in second place with $17,600. Your answer?”

“What is Harrenhal?” Stannis had written in tidy, blocky capitals. 

“That’s the ancient castle we’re looking for. What did you wager? Ten thousand and one dollars. Your total is now $27,601.

“Let’s look at our champion now. Walda Frey Bolton, your answer is ... ?”

If there was one thing marriage to Roose Bolton had taught Walda, it was the history — and meaning — of every killing and crime in Westeros and the Free Cities. He had begun educating her in this genre of world history almost before they had left on their honeymoon. Walda could not only tell you the names of the men killed in those Harrenhal murders, but could tell you that the authorities were on the wrong track looking for the little Stark girl — who would now be 24 years old, but no longer went by that name and at any rate was nowhere to be found in Westeros.

She could tell you that looking for a member of the order of Faceless Man assassins was about as fruitful as looking down a well for Rhaegar Targaryen.

She could tell you that there were men her husband’s ancestors had tortured who would die — and had — rather than give up the secrets of doomed Harrenhal.

But Walda didn’t say any of this. She merely relished the look on Alyx Tarbeck’s face when he revealed her correct answer and her wager — all $29,000 of it — and his “Whoo!” 

It was very rare to get a “whoo!” out of Tarbeck.

“And what does that say at the bottom? ‘Hi Roose’?”

“My husband!” Walda exclaimed, still looking for him in the audience. Finally she spotted him and fluttered a little wave. _Look, honey, we_ _’_ _re rich!_ He lifted his hand and waved, ever so slightly, back.

“Congratulations, Walda! You are now a two-day champion and you will come back tomorrow to face two new challengers. Davos, Stannis, a very good game from both of you as well.” Tarbeck turned to beseech his unseen television audience. “Won’t you please join us tomorrow?” 

The closing theme began, the stage lights lowered and the crowd began stirring and emptying out of the seats. Stannis and Davos were speaking heatedly, standing close together, but Walda had eyes for no one but Roose. He was coming toward her down the long, long aisle of the studio. When he reached her, he picked her up with a short grunt, turned her around once, and kissed her square on the mouth. Walda would rather have that display of affection than $58,000 plus $906, but luckily, she didn’t have to choose. She had it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it was pretty funny to see that everyone had skin in this game. I had the outcome planned out this way, and written, before I ever started posting -- though I received a lot of heartfelt pleas for several different outcomes ;) If anyone wants to take this AU and write other Westeros contestants, or even this game again, go for it!
> 
> Thank you to drownedbyyourstandards for the help with the final Jeopardy question. :)


	7. Stannis & Davos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The postgame wrap.

“Do you always do that?” Stannis asked. He was _furious_. His face was dark red and his jaw was twitching. What in the seven hells? 

“Sore loser, eh?” Maybe Davos has gotten him wrong this whole time. Maybe he blamed his second-place finish on Davos’ admittedly obvious attentions. But he had gotten the final answer right … “Do I always do what?”

“Let someone else win!”

“Walda? She had us both by a mile. I have no goddamn clue what you’re talking about and if you’re accusing me of throwing the game to _Walda_ you need to brush up on your math.”

“ _Not Walda_! Didn’t you answer Final Jeopardy wrong so that I would win?”

Davos’ mouth cracked open in a caustic grin. _Are you fucking kidding me_?

“You think that’s what I did? That I have … you know what? Go fuck _yourself_. Gods.” He was done with this guy and his mixed signals and his shitty attitude. So he was sexy – so what. He was too much work.

But Stannis didn’t look like he was about to leave. He took a deep breath, eyes closed. For some reason, Davos waited. He was exhausted. Though he’d been trying to play it off like he didn’t care — and mostly he didn’t — the stress of the taping had taken more of a toll on him than he had thought and he felt raw and frazzled.

“Let’s start over,” Stannis said. “Do you always do … that?”

“ _What._ ”

“Shamelessly flirt with your opposition, causing no end of distraction and … and …”

A flush was creeping up Stannis’ neck, and the tic was back in his jawline, but his eyes were bright. Still, Davos wasn’t sure he was in a forgiving mood.

“And…?”

The seconds passed. Stannis seemed to summon words from some deep, hard-to-reach reserve.

“Look,” he said, finally. “Do you want to go get a drink somewhere?”

 

* * *

 

“You took off your sweater … _at_ me,” Stannis said, two beers later. It had taken him that long to even relax enough to speak more than a few words at a time to Davos after they had landed at the little sports bar. At least nobody there had been watching Jeopardy! He was still in a state of shock, probably: shock that he had lost the game, that he had lost so surprisingly, that Davos had been so angry at his accusation, that he had asked him out. There had been so many little shocks that he was almost numb. Almost, but not quite. Yet the only thing he could think to comment on was that break between the segments, when Davos had started to drive him crazy.

Davos laughed, and it was a real laugh and not that bitter one he had heard at first, and that made things better. “I was hot,” he said.

“I’ll say,” muttered Stannis. He wasn’t even sure whether he regretted it or not. 

“I wish you’d say more,” Davos said, moving his bar stool just the slightest bit closer.

Stannis still hadn’t actually made physical contact with him — not even a handshake — and he wondered what he could possibly say to make things clear. Another drink would help, but then there was a little hopeful voice in the back of his head telling him not to get _too_ drunk … he felt warm thinking about it. There was still no chance. Yet Davos was watching him, curious and waiting. Stannis shifted his weight carefully on the stool so as not to tip over, leaned toward Davos, and pressed a tentative kiss to his lips. There was, after all, nothing more he could say.

 

* * * 

 

Much as he would have liked to put Stannis forcibly in a cab and get them to his home — recently renovated, he recalled through the fog that suddenly engulfed his mind — Davos reminded himself that he still barely knew this man and he might do better to stay in the bar for now. Their kiss had been a revelation, and probably it would have been easy enough to turn this into a quick date, wind up in bed, and then part the next day without a word about keeping in touch.

But he didn’t want it to be like that. He wanted to actually see what was behind the mask of tension and the blue, blue eyes. He thought he might very well like what he found.

“So you … how long have you been planning to go on that show,” he asked, slightly breathless, his hand on Stannis’ knee.

“Years,” Stannis replied. “Trivia was the only thing I could ever do better than my brothers.”

“Were they there tonight?”

“Certainly not — they wouldn’t make room in their schedules. What about your family?”

“Don’t have any,” Davos said. He turned toward the bar, absently stirring the foam in his empty glass. “But that’s all right,” he added. “It would have been hard to explain why I was skipping out to go to the bar with you instead of post-gaming with them.”

Stannis smiled, only briefly, but it made Davos’ heart jump. “I didn’t think of it that way,” he said. “I was only upset they didn’t show up.”

Now it was Davos who was drawn inexorably toward Stannis, to find his mouth again, and this time they didn’t come up for air for long seconds, maybe a minute, maybe a month. His hand crept up toward Stannis’ thigh in spite of himself. He wondered how many losing contestants hooked up after these shows, and suddenly he had to get things out in the open. There was something about Stannis that made him want to keep him around for as long as he possibly could. _  
_

“Look,” he finally said. “I want to leave with you, but I don’t want it to be … you know …” He searched for words. “Casual,” he settled on.

Stannis looked at him, serious and unguarded at once. “No,” he said, with finality, “it won’t be.”


	8. Epilogue: Walda III

Roose had finally taken the three cordless telephones out into the shed and shut the door with an ominous slam. It wasn’t so much the sheer _number_ of Freys who had been calling since her Jeopardy! win — it was her grandfather, Old Walder Frey, who wouldn’t leave Roose alone about the investments and the beneficiaries and the hints that maybe they could come for dinner sometime soon — all this after he hadn’t spoken more than two words to the couple in five years.  

“ _Now_ he wants to have a civil discussion,” Roose fumed.

“Remember when we were married and he was so angry about the guest list he wouldn’t speak to us for months?”

“Of course I remember,” said her husband shortly. “It would have been a stain on our honor not to invite your cousin Roslin’s husband, even if he was a Tully. Surely that old man could understand—”

“It’s just family politics, darling,” Walda said. “And you know what he’s like. I knew the minute I got on the show that he’d be calling once I won.”

Roose looked at her sideways. “And you knew you’d win, is that it?”

“Of course,” she said, swinging her feet up into his lap. “After all, you were coaching me, and I wanted to make you proud. No one else had a chance.”

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for all the Roose/Walda fans out there. I had no idea how many of you there were. :) 
> 
> Thank you to everyone for your amazing response to this story! Thank you especially to [shadowsfan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsfan/pseuds/shadowsfan) for being such an inspiration and source of support.


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